The Perfect Retreat
Full of sex, secrets and scandal, this new novel from e-book sensation Kate Forster, will have you hooked.Can you live on love alone?Willow Carruthers – British Oscar winner, style icon and mother of three is facing a crisis: she’s broke, discovery of her partner’s infidelity has left her a single mother and, if the banks have their way, she’s about to be homeless.Meanwhile nanny to Wilow’s children Kitty, is desperate to keep her job and knows just the place they can retreat too – her crumbling ancestral home in the Bristol countryside, Middlemist House.To both women in their hour of need, the idea of leaving LA seems brilliant in theory, until Kitty’s brother Merritt returns home unannounced.From London to L.A, The Perfect Retreat is pure escapism - full of sex, scandal and intrigue.
Читать The Perfect Retreat онлайн беплатно
KATE FORSTER
The Perfect Retreat
Copyright
AVON
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
Copyright © Kate Forster 2013
Kate Forster asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9781847563095
Ebook Edition © March 2013 ISBN: 9780007494095
Version: 2014-07-25
Dedication
For Tara whose patience, support and guidance means more to me than she knows.
Table of Contents
PART ONE
To Clementina Ferrand, Comtesse de Clermont
Paris,
January 1850
Dearest Clementina,
This small weight of paper does not do justice to the enormity of my task. It is done. I have fulfilled my promise, and now I hope with all my heart that you will keep yours to me. When I lingered at your side in Paris, unwilling to leave you, you asked me to build you a home.
It is done.
My beautiful Clementina, I have included a drawing of our home – if you will let it be such – and I hope it meets with your approval. It is a home for us, and if God is kind, our children.
I cannot imagine life without you here. Every room calls your name and every tree I have planted asks for you to come and witness its transformation over the seasons.
The house is named Middlemist, after me. It is a pretty home, resting on a hill, built in a modern style. I have built a ballroom at its heart. I have taken the liberty of including something I have dreamed of: an orangery, filled entirely with clementines. Should you wish to come and be my wife, you will have all the sweet fruit you desire and I shall have you, the sweetest Clementine in the world.
It may be my misfortune that you have been taken away by another suitor by the time this letter comes to you; and if that is so then I will retire gracefully. I will live with the pain in my heart for evermore.
Although water divides us and some say that time should have lessened our love, you have my heart forever, my darling Clementina. Middlemist is yours and waiting, as am I.
Yours now, for I am no longer my own,
George
CHAPTER ONE
Willow Carruthers sat in the deep leather chair in her lawyer’s office and wrung her thin hands together, oblivious to the scraping sound her rings made.
‘No money?’ she asked again.
Her lawyer shook her head, the noise of Willow’s rings annoying her. ‘None, I’m afraid.’
Willow felt the pit of her stomach sink away and she rubbed her eyes, hoping the black spots before them would disappear, smearing her perfectly applied eye makeup.
‘How can it be?’ she asked. ‘I had my own money when Kerr and I married.’
‘I know, but you and Kerr never signed a prenuptial agreement. All your money has gone on …’ the polished woman looked down at the list in front of her, ‘… lifestyle. And some poor investments.’
Willow had the strong feeling she was being judged. Her feeling was confirmed when the lawyer started to speak again.
‘Three Aston Martins, two Porches, a house in Vail, a house in London, two castles in Europe, a vineyard in France and an olive grove in Italy, and a luxury yacht which Kerr put the down payment on eighteen months ago. Works of art by Lucian Freud, Damien Hirst, and Tracey Emin. Jewellery …’
‘I know, I know,’ Willow interrupted her.
She knew the castles were too much. She had tried to convince Kerr they didn’t need a house in Vail – she hated skiing – but he insisted. He was a rock star cliché and now she had to pay for it. Although she hadn’t been too stingy with the credit card either. Harvey Nichols practically closed when she was inside; she often had three people serving her at once. And she had recently spent an enormous amount of money on making the house environmentally friendly.
